


Eternity

by newtheglue



Series: Eternally Yours [1]
Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Afterlife, Alcohol, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempt at Humor, Bad Writing, But Not Much, Established Relationship, Eventual Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Suicide Attempt, my own weird mythology of sorts, not as sad as you think !!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 05:26:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13897218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newtheglue/pseuds/newtheglue
Summary: Newt doesn’t really know what’s going on. Actually, he definitely doesn’t know what’s going on, because why the hell is he breathing? And why is he in The Box?He remembers feeling that knife plunge deep into his chest. And he remembers Tommy’s face of terror when Newt had choked on the boy’s name- when he’d taken his final breath.At least, he thought it was his final breath. But no- yeah, he’s definitely breathing. Hyperventilating, to be more exact. Because he can’t be alive, he can’t be, and please, God, don’t send me back there, don’t send me back, don’t send me-CLANG.





	Eternity

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for the bad writing™

Newt doesn’t really know what’s going on. Actually, he _definitely_ doesn’t know what’s going on, because why the hell is he breathing? And why is he in The Box?  
  
He remembers feeling that knife plunge deep into his chest. And he remembers Tommy’s face of terror when Newt had choked on the boy’s name- when he’d taken his final breath.  
  
At least, he thought it was his final breath. But no- yeah, he’s definitely breathing. Hyperventilating, to be more exact. Because he can’t be alive, he _can’t_ be, and _please, God, don’t send me back there, don’t send me back, don’t send me-_  
  
_CLANG_.

The Box comes to a sudden stop, knocking Newt back on his ass. He manages to calm his breathing to _rapid_ instead of _your_ _lungs_ _will_ _literally_ _explode_ _if_ _you_ _fill_ _them_ _with_ _any_ _more_ _oxygen_.  
  
Then, someone is pulling the top of The Box open and-

 _Oh_.

Alby.

“Shit,” he hears a younger voice say. _Chuck_ , Newt thinks. _Yeah, I’m definitely fucking dead._

He opens his mouth to ask a question; something along the lines of ‘what the actual fuck?’ but Alby cuts him off. “You mind tellin’ me why you’re here so soon?” He asks, voice eerily calm for someone who’s dead.

“You mind tellin’ _me_ what’s goin’ on?” Newt blurts, feeling so many emotions at one he can’t even begin to decipher them. Alby reaches down and pulls Newt out of the box. His smile is sad, and Newt wonders why you’re allowed to be sad if you’re dead.

“I thought you’d make it,” Chuck says quietly, seemingly more to himself than to Newt. “You, Thomas, Minho, and Fry.” Newt offers the boy an attempt at a smile, feeling his heart lurch at his friend’s names. He hopes they make it out of that damned city.

Newt turns back to Alby, who hasn’t stopped staring. “Where are we?” He asks his friend- the one he had barely had time to grieve.

“The afterlife, heaven, nirvana- whatever you want to call it. Or our version, I guess. The only ones who are here are the kids from The Glade. Which makes sense, ‘cause this place is basically The Glade without walls.” And looking around, Newt supposes Alby’s right. The landscape is nearly identical to The Glade, although the buildings are more similar to the old photographs of houses Newt had seen on their runs in the Scorch. But the biggest difference? The grassy hills are never cut off by looming, nightmarish walls. Newt’s whole body relaxes at the mere absence of them.

“So, what happened?” Alby continues eventually. “How did you…”

“Myself.” When Alby’s eyes turn angry, Newt quickly adds, “Not like _that!_ Not- I was infected. Winston’s told you about The Flare, yeah?” Alby nods slowly, seeming to catch on. “I went outta my mind. Nearly killed Tommy before I came to my bloody senses. I had to stop myself. He couldn’t do it.”

It’s silent before a grin spreads across Chuck’s face. “If you were trying to kill Thomas, it must’ve been _bad_.” Newt’s eyebrows furrow. Alby laughs beside him. “Oh, c’mon. Being dead has its perks. We see everything.” Chuck scrunches up his face and begins making kissy noises.

Newt shoves the boy lightly, because _hey! That stuff is private!_ But when Alby and Chuck’s laughter fills the air around them, Newt can’t help the smile that lights up his face.

* * *

  
Newt’s settling into one of the small houses- or at least he’s trying to- when the alarm goes off. The Box alarm.

And Newt’s runs. He doesn’t even notice that his limp is gone until he reaches The Box, and even then, his mind is too fearful to register it properly.

_Please don’t be them._

His heart feels like it’s covered in ice. When Alby reaches him, he looks worried. “It’s never been so close together before,” he says, and Newt is reminded of the whole Thomas and Teresa mess.

“Open it,” Chuck says urgently, and Newt wishes he felt the excitement the other boy did. No matter how much he wants his friends here with him, he can’t bring himself to even hope they’re in that box.

Alby’s hands grip the latch. Newt takes a breath.

“Alby?”

Newt’s blood runs cold. _Teresa_.

He wants to be angry. He wants to scream at her. He wants to hate her for what she did to Minho. For what she did to Thomas. He wants to blame her for everything that happened to him and their friends.

But when Alby helps her get out of The Box, Newt rushes to wrap his arms around her.

She seems shocked at first- which, _yeah_ , there is a _dead guy_ hugging her- but within seconds she’s hugging him back just as fiercely.

“I’m _so sorry_ , Newt. I didn’t mean for any of it to happen. I’m so, so sorry,” she says in a rush, tears dampening his shoulder. She whispers more apologies into his chest, and it’s all Newt can do to keep them both upright. He vaguely hears Alby whispering to Chuck, and then the sound of their footsteps retreating.

After a few moments, Teresa moves back to look at him. Then, with emotion heavy in her voice, she says, “I wasn’t- I wasn’t trying to blackmail Thomas. I _wanted_ to save you. I _promise_ , I wouldn’t-"

“I know,” he says. He wasn’t sure that he _had_ known, but he does now. He knows what her intentions were; that she had only ever cared for them.

Damn afterlife bullshit.

“They got out,” Teresa tells him. “I made sure they’d get out of there.” There’s something in her voice, and he’s about to ask what happened, when she says, “Thomas got hurt. He got hurt really bad, Newt.”

“He has a habit of doing that,” Newt replies, forcing his voice to stay steady. _You’d better be bloody alright, Tommy. I’ll kill you if you die._

Teresa lets out a huff of laughter, which seems to surprise her. “How’s he going to manage with just Minho and Frypan?” She grins tearfully. “We were the voices of reason in that bunch.”

“They’re totally, one hundred percent, screwed.”

And that's when Newt hears it. Clear as day, Tommy's voice rings out in his brain.

_I'll see you soon, Newt._

* * *

  
Newt and Teresa wait by The Box that night. And when they cry in relief when it doesn’t come back up, the Gladers pretend not to notice.

* * *

  
Ben teaches them how to See.

It makes Newt laugh the first time he sees the boy doing it. It looks far too similar to the stereotypical meditation pose. Teresa scolds him, but he sees her holding back a giggle.

It takes a painful few hours to catch a glimpse of the real world. Newt felt like he was going crazy from having his eyes shut for three hours, when he finally was able to reach far enough in his mind.

_Tommy is lying on a cot, his stomach wrapped tightly in blood-stained bandages. Minho is beside him, looking awfully disheveled, with tears running down his face._

_“-need you here, man.”_ The voice sounds odd in his mind- like an echo. _“Everyone is moving on, and I can’t. Not without you, or him. And I- he’s not coming back, so I really need you to wake up, Thomas.” He sits in silence for what feels like forever, before adding a broken, “Please.”_

Newt snaps out of the vision, feeling nauseous. Ben cracks open an eye, before he sighs and moves to kneel in front of Newt.

“I know it’s hard,” the ex-runner says gently, “but it’ll get better. The nausea stops after about five or so times. And  seeing them… there are good times and bad times. But one day, you’ll be able to tell them that you missed them as much as they miss you.”

Newt looks at his friend with teary eyes. “I’ll kick their bloody asses if they get here before they’re old and gray,” he says, barely able to keep the waver out of his voice.

Ben smiles. “That’s what we said about you, too. Alby swore he’d kill you if he saw you here before you turned ninety.” The boy pauses. “If this Safe Haven works out, though, you won’t have to see them for a long time.”

Newt prays that the Safe Haven stays put for a million years.

* * *

  
The second and third time he Sees, Thomas is still asleep. Sometimes, he thrashes in his sleep, calling out for Newt or Teresa. Teresa reaches out to Newt when that happens, both of them drawing comfort from the other’s presence. Teresa claims those times hurt the most. Other times, though, Thomas sleeps peacefully. Those times scare Newt more. Thomas looks like a ghost when he’s that still, like he’s ready to climb into The Box and see his friends again.

The fourth time Newt Sees, Thomas wakes up. It breaks Newt’s heart, the way Thomas reaches out when he sits up, before retracting his hand with a devastated expression. Minho looks like he might fall over from relief. And when he hands Thomas Newt’s necklace, Newt nearly regrets giving him the damn thing. He doesn’t want to make everything worse.

But the look Thomas gets after he reads the letter that night, after the names are engraved into stone and minds forever, that’s what makes it worth it. There are tears and snot and everything in between covering his lover’s face, but Thomas has that look in his eyes again. Like he’s ready to conquer the world. Like he’s ready to make sure that the names carved in stone didn’t lose their lives for nothing.

And although Tommy’s lips don’t move, Newt hears the prayer.

_Thanks, Newt._

* * *

  
“Ugh!” Teresa groans, after one of their Seeing sessions. Newt laughs at her frustration.

“What?” He says, trying to suppress his grin.

“All they do is build shit, fish, and sleep! That’s it! That’s _all_ they fucking do!” She groans again. “Being dead is more exciting, and being dead is boring.”

“That’s not true,” Newt protests lightly, bumping their shoulders. “Alby does the bonfires sometimes.”

Teresa’s response is an unimpressed stare. Newt suddenly understands how Thomas must’ve felt whenever he did something stupid. Which, honestly, was more often than not.

“Okay, maybe it’s a little boring. But, hey! We can build shit here if you want!” Newt immediately regrets his words when Teresa’s eyes light up. “No,” is all he says.

“ _Relax_ , Crank Boy, it wasn’t anything bad.” He rolls his eyes at the nickname.

“Then please enlighten me, Fire Girl.”

“You know that big, dumb rock they have? With all of our names on it?” Newt nods. “Let’s do that.”

“ _Why_ would we do that? We’re all here.”

“Not _our_ names, stupid. _Their_ names. The _Living_. Then when they come up, we cross it out.”

“Teresa,” Newt says, mildly horrified, “that’s a _hit list._ ”

“Exactly.”

_“Absolutely not!”_

* * *

  
They find a big enough rock two days later, and start carving.

* * *

  
Thomas and Minho are sat on the edge of the beach, their hands playing with the grass.

“Do you think about him?” Minho asks. Newt feels the familiar pang of helplessness at not being able to comfort his friend. He hopes that they feel him there, at the very least.

“Every damn second,” Thomas says, voice thick. Newt feels Teresa reaching out to him again, trying to offer some sort of solace, even if it’s just knowing that she’s there.

“I hope he’s happier, wherever he is,” Minho says, and Newt wants to say _‘I am, I promise. Don’t worry about me.’_ But he stays silent, knowing it’s pointless to force the words out.

Thomas nods, looking too tearful to answer.

Newt is surprised when he hears Minho let out a soft chuckle. “I bet Chuck has been yappin’ Newt’s ears off nonstop.”

Newt’s heart warms when he sees the hesitant smile grow on Thomas’s face.

It’s a sign of healing for Minho and Thomas, and for the first time since he got to this place, Newt feels somewhat at peace.

 

* * *

  
It’s two years after Teresa and Newt arrived that the box alarm goes off again. Newt wakes with a jolt, feeling his heart pounding in his chest.

His mind immediately goes to the worst, but he relaxes a bit when he remembers Seeing the Living last night. All of them had been fine. So…

“Who the hell do you think it is?” Teresa asks when they both arrive at The Box. Newt hears the rattling of the metal as someone gets closer to their home. “I don’t remember any of the boys being sick…”

Newt hears the Gladers getting closer as The Box stops with a loud crash, but Newt beats Alby to the latch.

His heart beats wildly in his chest as he opens it.

And, _that_ … was _not_ who he expected.

“Hey, _hermano_.”

 

* * *

  
“How the hell did you end up here?” Newt asks Jorge when things have calmed down and Alby grants them permission to speak in private. Private meaning Newt and Jorge being supervised by Alby, Ben, and Winston.

“I died.” Newt tries not to let his lips quirk into a smile, but judging by the look on Ben’s face, he doesn’t do a good job.

“How?” Newt asks, regaining his composure.

Jorge doesn’t look upset, which is a good sign. Nothing too traumatic, hopefully. “Lifespans aren’t very long in the Scorch, my friend. Even in Paradise. But don’t worry. It was peaceful.”

“ _Why_ are you here? Why would you end up in the Glade of all places?” Alby asks, not unkindly. Newt looks back to Jorge, curious to hear his reply.

“I wasn’t looking for a place. I was looking for this one,” Jorge responds, gesturing to Newt. Newt tries to hide his surprise. “I didn’t have a family before The Flare. All I have is Brenda, and the idiots I found running from WICKED. Brenda is young and healthy, those boys are alive by pure luck alone. The only one who has moved on is _you_ , _hermano_ , and I want to be with someone I care about.”

Newt’s cheeks redden slightly at that.

“I guess it makes sense,” Ben says after a moment of hesitant silence.

“That’s it? He’s good to go?” Alby asks, sounding surprised.

Newt chuckles. Jorge looks as if he’s never seen Newt laugh before. Newt supposes it wasn’t a common occurrence when he was alive. “What’s he gonna do? Kill us?”

Newt’s shoulders sag in relief when even Alby laughs.

 

* * *

 

He thought Tommy was healing. He thought it’d be okay, that he’d see his lover live a long life before he’d greet him at The Box.

So when he sees Tommy standing at the edge of that cliff, he screams. He knows Tommy can’t hear him.

But he’s there, screaming and yelling his name. “Tommy, stop! You don’t know what you’re doing, get down from there! _Thomas!”_

“Can’t, can’t, _can’t_ ,” Thomas is muttering. And for _fuck’s sake_ , is he _drunk_? Who let him drink?

“Thomas, stop, _please_ ,” Newt begs. He’s crying at this point, so desperate that his chest aches.

Thomas looks up, glassy eyes flitting around the constellations. “‘M sorry, Newt. I tried. I tried to be happy. ‘S too much. Can’t. Not without you. Teresa. Chuck. Jorge. My fault, my fault, my fault.” Another step towards the edge.

“Tommy, no! _Please_ , just back-”

“Thomas!” Comes a new voice. _Minho_. Newt’s body floods with relief. “Thomas, what are you doing?” Minho’s voice is shaking.

“I can’t do it anymore. They’re all dead. _He’s_ dead. ‘S all my fault.” Newt’s heart is breaking at how terribly _sad_ Thomas sounds. “I killed them. I killed _all_ of them. Chuck, Teresa… Newt was right to want me dead.”

It feels like Newt’s been punched in the gut. Then horror fills his body. _What had he done to Thomas that night? Had he... was he the one who shot Thomas?_

“Thomas…” Minho grabs Thomas’s wrist, gently tugging him away from the edge. Thomas doesn’t budge. “Thomas, you didn’t kill them, okay? Chuck was killed by WICKED. Teresa? That was _her_ choice. And Newt? The _Flare_ killed him, Thomas. He wasn’t- he wasn’t in his right mind. Anything that he did at the end, that wasn’t him. You know that right?”

Newt tries to remember exactly what he did to Tommy, but whenever he tries to recall the specifics of that night, he can’t see past the fog of the virus.

“He had the knife to my chest, Minho! He was gonna kill me, ‘n I was gonna let him do it.” Thomas’s voice goes quiet. Newt feels sick. “Minho, I _tried_. I tried to hold out ‘til you brought the serum. If I had held him down, if I hadn’t been afraid of hurting him…”

Thomas moves toward Minho and collapses in his arms. Tommy’s sobs echo throughout Newt’s mind. Minho buries his face in Thomas’s shoulder, silent cries morphing into sobs as loud as Tommy’s.

Newt moves closer to them, trying the best he can to reach out and let them know he’s there. That he’s happy, and he’s so grateful that he had them.

Minho, who had saved him in so many ways. His best friend since the moment Minho popped up in that box, terrified and only fourteen. The boy who’d carried Newt out of The Maze after he’d tried to kill himself. The boy who had punched another Glader in the face for mocking Newt’s limp. The boy Newt had died to rescue.

And Tommy…

He thinks he’ll love Tommy forever. The greenie who had intrigued him since day one. Who he’d kissed the night of the bonfire, buzzed on Gally’s liquor. Who he’d been so afraid for when they were separated in The Scorch. Whose name he’d choked out, trying so desperately to say those three words once more, just to make sure Tommy knew. That stupid greenie who Newt loved until his dying breath, and then beyond.

“I love him. I know I told him a million times, but-“

“He knew,” Minho interjects. “He _knows_.” He pulls away, forcing Thomas to look at him. “I know you miss him. Because I miss him too. So much it’s unbearable sometimes.”

“I _hate_ it, Min. I hate _myself_ , because… because some days I think it’d just be easier to forget that he even existed in the first place. Because maybe then it wouldn’t _hurt_ so much. But that just ends up making it worse, ‘cause how could I forget him? How could I _want_ to forget him? How fucked up does that make me, huh?”

“Thomas…” Minho says, eyes glittering. “Thomas, _no_. You aren’t fucked up. You aren’t wrong for anything, okay? Everything you’re going through… that’s normal for someone who lost the person they loved in a situation like _that_. You _know_ that it’s okay, right? It’s okay to _grieve_.” Minho looks terrified and upset, and Newt wants _so bad_ to be able to fix this for him. “But Thomas… he wouldn’t want this. He wouldn’t want you to cut your life short to see him sooner. If I know anything about Newt, it’s that he’s gonna wait for you.”

Newt breathes a sigh of relief when he sees that Thomas looks convinced.

“I’m sorry,” Thomas says tearfully. “‘M sorry that I did that. I know it was stupid. You’re my best friend, Min. You were his. I can’t leave you to bear it by yourself.”

Minho laughs, it’s sad and terrified, but still a laugh. “Just never do anything like that again, Thomas. You’ll see him. You just gotta wait.”

Thomas nods.

Newt stays with them until morning arrives and they head back to camp.

 

* * *

 

Years pass, and Thomas heals. Newt walks with him when he can, and he knows it’s not a simple road, recovering from something like that. But Tommy does, eventually. And he and Minho can talk about their best friend with smiles instead of tears.  

Teresa doesn’t join Newt as often as she used to, but she seems relieved that her friends seem to forgive her, and miss her.

Jorge accompanies him more often than not. Newt enjoys the company of the older man. He’s a calming presence when he Sees, and the energy transfers to Newt.

He’d never seen Jorge smile quite like he had when they’d learned about Minho and Brenda. “He’s a good one, that boy,” the man had said. “The only one who could ever come close to deserving my girl.”

 

* * *

 

Many years later, when the Living’s hair had begun to gray, the first one joins them.

It had been the middle of the night, similar to Jorge. Newt had woken up to the alarm, yet didn’t feel the panic he’d felt when the Living were young.

Nevertheless, he pulls himself out of his bed, and begins his walk to The Box. Most of the Gladers have beat him there.

He sees Jorge, whose arms are wrapped around a much shorter figure. And he knows who it is automatically.

Brenda.

He smiles as he nears her, and she smiles back as she pulls away from Jorge. She’s much younger than he’s seen her in the past few years. She looks as young as she did in The Scorch, with her buzzed black hair and bright eyes.

She moves closer to hug him, but he interrupts her.

“Did you crash a bus?”

“Shut up!” She laughs, punching him in the arm. “I’m the best bus driver there is.”

“You’re the _only_ bus driver there is.”

She laughs, finally wrapping her arms around him. “This place has made you meaner than I remember.”

“Jorge’s a bad influence,” Newt says, grinning.

_“I heard that, hermano!”_

 

* * *

After Brenda, the time between the arrivals is much shorter.

It takes two months before Sonya arrives, Harriet following a week after her wife.

Aris is four months after them.

Then comes Frypan, who sees the Gladers he’s lost, and starts crying. His reunion with Winston is enough to make all of the afterlife residents sniffle. Jorge had cried the most, despite denying that he even shed a tear.

Gally had worried a few of them. But as soon as Gally had laid eyes on Ben, all the worries disappeared. He hugged his best friend so tight that Newt had worried for the young runner’s ribcage. Gally had gone to Newt after, apologizing with tears in his eyes for not helping him in time. Newt had been horribly confused by that. Gally blaming _himself_ for Newt getting _infected?_ The idea seemed absurd.

It’d been hard to watch Gally with Chuck. His tears had spilled over as soon as he laid eyes on the boy who would forever look twelve. He’d begged and begged for Chuck to forgive him, and Chuck had looked overwhelmed. He hadn’t known Gally could even blame himself for that. “It was WICKED, Gal," he'd said, and Gally had cried even harder. Newt had barely seen the two apart since.

And then everyone is there but the two Newt misses the most. It feels like some kind of cosmic joke, but Newt also knows that his boys won't live forever. So he waits, and waits, and waits.

 

* * *

 

Newt hasn’t gone to See in a long time. A few years, at least. He no longer feels that Thomas and Minho need him there, to watch over them. He’ll see them soon enough anyway.

“Does it scare you?” Teresa asks, leaning against the log with him at one of the bonfires. It’s strikingly similar to the night Tommy had arrived in the Glade.

“Does what scare me?” Newt doesn’t know that he’s been scared in a long time. He looks to Teresa and sees her bright eyes shining with tears.

“Seeing them again. What if they don’t love us as much as they did when we were alive?” She asks, voice sounding so very young and insecure.

Newt hums. “No. It doesn’t scare me. I don’t think love fades, even though they lost us so long ago. I mean, I remember Jorge when Brenda got here. I mean he died, what? Thirty years before her? And she still loved him. She loved him just as much as she did the day he died. Same with Fry and Winston. And Gally and Ben.”

“We’ve been dead a long time, Crank Boy,” She says softly, still sounding unsure.

“We’ve been loved a lot longer, Fire Girl.”

 

* * *

 

Newt’s in the gardens when the alarm goes off this time. The siren pierces at his eardrums, and suddenly his legs can’t move fast enough. He’s the second to arrive at the Box, Brenda a few feet ahead of him. Teresa is right behind him, and when he turns back, he sees tears already welling in her eyes. He takes her hand and squeezes.

The first few seconds pass in a blur. Brenda grabs at the latch as soon as The Box halts, and suddenly there’s Minho.

Newt is frozen in place. He can’t speak. He just watches as Minho holds Brenda as tight as he can manage. Newt thinks his hand slips from Teresa’s. His friend looks exactly the same as he had during those years during The Maze. That alone hits Newt like a freight train.

Minho holds Brenda for a long few moments, before his eyes flit up and land on Newt.

Newt’s already crying by the time Minho takes a step towards him. He doesn’t know which one of them move first, but Newt is suddenly wrapped in the hug he waited decades for. “We missed you so much, Newt,” Minho mumbles tearfully into his friend’s shoulder.

“I was with you the whole time, I promise.”

“ _I love you so much, brother.”_

“ _I love you, too.”_

 

* * *

 

Minho disappears most of the first day. Newt tells Teresa that he’s _reuniting_ with Brenda and gets a decently hard punch to the arm.

Newt is surprisingly okay with not seeing Minho until the next day. After all, they have forever now.

So when Minho finally shows up at Newt’s little house, they both somehow end up crying again. They’re sitting on the front steps, looking so absolutely ridiculous that it’d be funny in any other situation.

“The first few years without you… we were so lost, Newt,” Minho sniffles, not able to look away from the friend he hadn’t seen in a long, long time. “You were the glue that held all of us together, and after… we just crumbled.”

“I remember watching you guys, and wanting so badly to see you again,” Newt says gently. “But I told Ben that I’d kill you if you got here too soon. And when Tommy- when he- I was _terrified_. I’ve never felt so useless. I had to watch the two of you struggle for so long. But I knew that if I stopped Seeing, then it would be worse, somehow.”

Minho furrows his eyebrows. “You were there. The night Thomas was on the ledge.”

Newt nods, wiping at the tears falling from his eyes. “I was _screaming_. I wanted him to hear me, and actually listen to what I told him to do for once. He was always so bad at listening.”

Minho laughs at that. “That shank couldn’t listen to anything, and somehow _I_ was the one that was hard of hearing in our old age.”

And that’s the sentence that makes Newt realize how much he’d missed. That his friends could joke about what they been like in their old age, but Newt would never even know what it’d be like to have a gray hair. That he, Teresa, Alby, Chuck, Winston, and all the Gladers who died before were just memories.

_Minho and Thomas had lived most of their life without him._

He understands why Teresa had been afraid.

“What’d I say?” Minho asks, and he looks so genuinely afraid that he hurt Newt, and Newt kind of hates how _good_ his best friend is.

“Nothing. I, uh…” Newt offers a wobbly smile, “I just wish I coulda been there with you guys.”

Minho looks sad. “I don’t care if you were there or not. I mean, I would’ve given anything to have you there, but… it doesn’t matter anymore. Not here. We have forever here. And when Thomas gets here? It’ll be so much better than those years that were just the two of us.”

Newt smiles at him, and leans into his friend.

He doesn’t think he’s been this happy in all the years he’s been here.

 

* * *

 

Newt learns three things in the first week Minho’s back.

1\. Minho is still a fucking dick.

Newt was in the garden again- which was totally ordinary (and had been for a _very_ long time)- when Minho decided to visit his friend. Sounds pleasant, right?

_Absolutely fucking wrong._

“Newton! What the hell are you doing in there?!” Minho calls over the various flowers and plants. Newt sighs at the name. He stands, wiping his dirt-covered hands onto his pants.

“Trying to make sure we have food to eat, Minho.”

“What the fuck? Dude, you know we’re _dead_ , right?”

“Minho, you’ve already eaten more food in two days than I’ve eaten the entire time I’ve been here. And I was still a teenager when I died.”

“Fair point.” Minho looks thoughtful for a moment, before he’s carefully navigating his way toward Newt.

“What are you doing?” Newt asks when Minho is standing directly in front of him. Minho offers a small grin before Newt is being picked up and thrown across Minho’s shoulder.

“ _Minho_ _!_ What the actual _fuck_ are you doing?!”

“Dude, you looked too gay over there.”

_“Minho.”_

2\. Brenda and Minho are disgusting.

The first time Newt catches them making out, he doesn’t think much of it. It’s Minho’s _third_ day back. He can cut his friends some slack. So he just yells, “Go inside before Chuck sees!” and continues on with his day.

The second and third time, they’re half naked against Newt’s house. There’s _abso-fucking-lutely_ _zero_ slack this time. _Why_ , you ask? Because it’s _still_ Minho’s _third_ day back _._  

The fourth time, Newt definitely screams because, _yeah_ , that was somebody’s ass.

3\. Minho… can still be really sweet.

Sometimes, when the Gladers are all together, laughing and smiling and _kissing_ , Newt finds himself drunk, alone, and by that log again. The one he’d kissed Tommy by. Because he’s dead, and he’s been dead a bloody _long_ time, and he _still_ doesn’t have Tommy here.

He can’t find it in himself to be annoyed when Minho joins him.

Minho sits so their shoulders are touching, before passing Newt a glass of Gally’s liquor. “You need to be drunk if we’re talking about him,” Minho says, offering a knowing smile.

Newt doesn’t reply, just nods, and takes a sip of the drink.

“I didn’t think it’d be possible to miss someone when you’re dead,” Minho confesses.

Newt laughs bitterly. “You _shouldn’t_ … but you also shouldn’t die when you’re seventeen. Life is _shitty_ when you only see your friends when they die. It’s bloody, fuckin’, shuckin’ stupid.”

“You’ve already had something to drink, haven’t you?”

“Mhm,” Newt hums. “Lots.”

Minho sighs. “C’mon,” he says, standing up, then pulling Newt to his feet. “Let’s get you to bed, okay?”

Newt just hums again.

Minho walks him home, arm wrapped tightly around his shoulders. It jogs something in Newt’s memory, and he finds himself giggling at the memory.

“What’s so funny, shank?”

Newt smiles as Minho leads him up the stairs. “‘S just like The Last City, innit?” Newt remembers Tommy and Minho’s arms around him, dragging him along like he was dead weight. _Dead_ weight. The thought makes him giggle again.

Minho’s grip falters when Newt mentions the city. Then Minho’s shaking his head and opening the door to Newt’s place. “You need to go to bed,” he says.

When Minho locates the bedroom, he manages to put Newt on the bed and cover him with one of the quilts without a hassle. “Newt, get some rest okay?” He says when Newt is settled.

“When’d you become such a _dad_?” Newt groans into the pillow.

“When you were gone and I had to take care of Thomas, ya shank.” Minho says with a smile.

“Mmm, I miss Tommy, Min.”

“I know.”

“He doesn’t care anymore.”

“What?”

“Fire Girl said we’ve been dead _so_ long. He won’t care like he used to. I still care, though, Min.”

“Newt, Thomas still loves you, okay? You’re too drunk for this, and you won’t know until he’s here anyway. But he still loves you as much as he loved you that night in the city.”

“Mm.”

Minho sighs. “Goodnight, brother.”

 

* * *

 

Newt doesn’t even register it at first. All he can think is ‘ _what the fuck is that noise_ ’ and ‘ _it needs to shut up_ ’ and ‘ _my head is exploding._ ’

He groans loudly into the pillow, and tries desperately to cover his ears. Then the noise fades, and he sighs in contentment.

Wait.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

 _OH_.

Newt springs from the bed, headache suddenly at the back of his mind. His mind is a jumbled mess of _tommytommytommytommy_ as he runs out the door. The rest of the Gladers are already there, and Minho’s standing in the back, smirking at Newt.

“Took ya long enough,” Minho says. “You gotta wait now. _Tommy’s_ meetin’ his fans.”

Newt’s whole world stops. A hesitant smile twitches at his lips, eyes glossing over with tears. “It’s him?”

“Yeah, Newt,” Minho answers, his voice soft, “it’s him.”

Newt tries to see over the crowd, but there’s too many of them.

“Consider yourself lucky,” Minho chuckles. “You get Greenie Thomas. I was hopin’ they’d send up that geriatric shank I came to love.”

Newt’s mind is droning out everything Minho is saying. _Tommy_. _Tommy’s here._

“Ugh,” Minho huffs, feigning boredom. “I’m getting tired of waiting. _Everyone! Go back to your homes! Gosh, we’re tryna have a nice reunion here!”_

With a few mumbles and chuckles, the crowd clears, leaving just a small group. Minho, Newt, Teresa, Brenda, Alby, Chuck, Jorge, Frypan, Winston, and Gally.

And Thomas.

Thomas with his hair as short as it had been when they’d met. Thomas with those stupid doe eyes. _Thomas_ who was still the most beautiful person in the world to Newt.

“Minho,” Thomas laughs. And Newt swears he’s died and gone to heaven… again. “You can’t just-“

Thomas’s eyes lock on Newt.

Thomas blinks. Once. Twice.

Newt bites his lip, tears falling.

Then one of them runs to the other. Newt doesn’t know who ran first, and he doesn’t care.

Because Tommy is wrapped in his arms for the first time in so, _so_ long.

Newt buries his face in the crook of Thomas’s neck, choking out a sob.

“ _Newt_.”

“Tommy.”

Thomas pulls away just the slightest, bringing his hands to cup Newt’s face. “ _I’m so sorry, Newt._ I’m _so_ sorry. _I’m so sorry._ ” Tommy’s crying just as hard as Newt, both of them completely oblivious to anything but the other person.

“No, don’t be sorry. You didn’t do anything, okay?”

And Thomas just _breaks_ . He’s sobbing and apologizing and being so _Thomas_ that Newt’s heart feels broken and full at the same time.

_Tommy’s home._

 

* * *

 

“Were you lonely?” Thomas asks, after he’s reunited with everyone, and the two manage to be completely alone.

He’d seen Chuck after Newt, and that had been upsetting for everyone. It was the person Chuck had waited for the longest, and seeing both of them cry had made everyone a little more teary-eyed than they already were. After that came Minho, whose brief hug and quick laugh had been much less emotional than Newt and Chuck’s cries. Teresa hadn’t been sure of what to do, until Thomas had pulled her into a tight hug and whispered things Newt couldn’t hear.

After a few more people had come to greet Thomas (Brenda, Jorge, and some of the Gladers) Newt had been able to easily pull Thomas to his house. And despite Minho’s loud catcalls, Newt had known this wasn’t going to be happy immediately.

Newt blinks in shock at Tommy’s question, letting it sink in for a moment. _Had he been?_

“I mean… I guess, sometimes.” Thomas looks so sad, and Newt knows he can’t leave it at that. “Not lonely, I guess. I had Teresa, Alby, and Jorge. And Brenda, later. But I was always missing part of me, if that makes sense.”

“It does,” Thomas says quietly, eyes scanning Newt’s face. “I was gone for a long time after you… after you left. Minho was scared, Brenda was scared… _I_ was scared. I mean, I nearly…” Thomas trails off. He swallows, as if debating his next words.

“I know,” Newt cuts off, sparing him. “I saw.”

Thomas’s breath hitches, and he nods. “I didn’t know what else to do. I mean, I get that it was dumb, looking back, but at the time…”

“It seemed like the only way to stop hurting,” Newt finishes, offering a wobbly smile. “I know. It’s not something to be ashamed of.” And that was something that had taken _years_ for Newt to learn.

“I knew that you’d want me to live, though. And it got easier, eventually, but it was never… it wasn’t completely _right_. No matter how happy I was, part of me was always aware of the fact that you weren’t there.” Thomas looks relieved, like he’d been trying for a long time to put it in words.

Newt reaches out, intertwining Thomas’s hand with his own. Thomas freezes at first, then relaxes at the contact. He leans over, resting his head on Newt’s shoulder, sighing contently.

Newt runs his thumb across Tommy’s hand, lost in thought. Finally, he says, “You didn’t have to… I mean… you could’ve… you could have moved on, Tommy. I wouldn’t have been angry with you.”

Thomas doesn’t lift his head from Newt’s shoulder. Instead, he lets out a small laugh. “I couldn’t have. Not from you. Not entirely. Not enough to love someone like that again.” He squeezes Newt’s hand. “I didn’t need- I didn’t _want_ someone to… to just replace _you_ . I had the memories of you, and I knew that I’d see you again. I still had my friends. I was still working on a future for the people there. I was able to help people. I was able to see my friends happy. _I_ was happy, Newt. I don’t want you to think that I wasn’t.”

Newt kisses the top of Thomas’s head softly. “And I don’t want you to think that _I_ wasn’t happy. I meant what I said in that letter, Tommy. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“Not even the end?”

“It wasn’t the end, though,” Newt points out. “I would have loved to spend those years with you, Tommy, but… we’re together _now_. And we have forever.”

Thomas lifts his head and meets Newt’s eyes. Newt sees the tears in them, despite the smile on Thomas’s face. “You have no idea how good it feels to hear your voice… to hear you say something other than what you said in my nightmares. It’s just… I missed your voice. A lot.”

Newt cards a hand through the other boy’s hair. “Get used to it. I’m gonna be talkin’ your ears off for the rest of eternity.”

“ _Eternity_ ,” Thomas laughs softly, and the sound makes Newt’s heart swell. “I like the sound of that.”

Thomas’s eyes are half-lidded as he glances at Newt’s lips. Newt gives him the smallest of smiles before meeting him halfway. Their lips connect for the first time in what feels like forever, and Thomas hums softly. Newt’s hand cups Thomas’s cheek gently, the touch so light it’s barely there.

When they break apart, a tear falls from Tommy’s eye. Newt brushes it away gently with his thumb.

“I love you so much,” Thomas says softly.

“I love you too, Tommy.”

 

* * *

 

It’s the last bonfire they’ll have for a while. Okay, well, maybe the last one they’ll have that’s actually _approved_ by Alby. But this time, Alby _insists_ that it’s a special occasion.

All of the Gladers are home.

Sure, there’d be others that would arrive. People whose lives had been touched by Thomas and Minho and _all_ of them, but for now, they allow themselves this celebration.

Gally makes gallons of his signature- _whatever_ -drink (Newt still doesn’t know what it is. He still doesn’t _want_ to know what it is.), Frypan prepares an absolute _feast_ , Ben takes it upon himself to get as much firewood as humanly possible, and the rest of them… kind of just sit on their asses.

When the celebration begins, Newt vaguely wonders if they have some kind of afterlife-world-neighbors who hate them for the noise they’re causing. Maybe another group of kids like them. Maybe WICKED. And as he listens to the people around him cheering and laughing and yelling, Newt hopes it’s WICKED.

The thought disappears by his fourth drink, when he’s leaning against Thomas, laughing at a joke Minho had made. He’s drunk, and happy, and ironically enough, he feels _alive_.

Minho is quite drunker than him, telling awful dad jokes and flirting with Brenda. His speech is a little slurred, and he stumbles around ever so slightly, but his smile is brighter than Newt ever remembers seeing it.

Teresa sits beside Newt, quiet, but laughing every time Minho does something ridiculous. She looks peaceful, her eyes reflecting the flames, and her shoulders relaxed for the first time in… well, how long has Newt known her now?

Jorge sits a few feet away, putting a little distance between himself and the group of drunk Gladers. He’s smiling fondly at Brenda as she rolls her eyes at her other half. Newt is glad that someone is staying relatively sober, because no one else is. Newt sends a sloppy peace sign at the older man. Jorge seems to grumble to himself before returning the gesture with a barely-contained smile.

“Did you hear about the restaurant on the moon?” Minho asks, already smiling to himself.

“Please don’t…” Gally mutters. “I’m _begging_ -”

“Great food, no atmosphere!” Minho shouts proudly, throwing his arms in the air, and causing his drink to spill on his shirt a bit.

Newt laughs, mainly at the look of pure disappointment on Gally’s face. “Bren! Brenda! Did ya see?! _Newt_ laughed. ‘S how you _know_ it was a good joke.” Brenda just rolls her eyes.

Newt barely has time to open his mouth before Minho has his arms around him in a tight hug. Luckily, Thomas steadies Newt by placing a hand on his back.

“ _Newt_ ,” he says softly when he pulls away. He looks sad.

“Min… are you alright?”

Suddenly, Minho’s eyes start to crinkle, and a loud laugh escapes his throat. “No! _I’m half left!_ ” He says, clearly pleased with himself. Gally looks ready to vomit if another word leaves Minho’s mouth.

Their group lets out a few laughs (even Thomas- the _traitor_ ), and then Brenda is giggling, “Hey, Gal, no more drinks for Min, okay?”

“Brenda, baby, please!” Minho begs, but Newt barely registers him due to Thomas’s voice in his ear.

“Hey, you wanna go to our spot? I can’t deal with anymore dad jokes,” he says softly, a slight smile curling his mouth. Newt nods, and the two get up to make their way to the outskirts of the celebration.

Not unnoticed, of course, because Minho yells, “Get some! Wait, not over there! At your house. Be safe! _Gosh_ , Bren, I love them _so_ much. _So much_. _Wow_. Has anyone _ever_ loved their friends this much?”

Thomas rolls his eyes when they finally get to the spot. He grabs Newt’s hand and pulls him down to sit next to him by the log.

That _stupid_ log.

“I spent so much time here, before you got here,” Newt says quietly, but not sadly. He doesn’t think he _can_ be sad- not with all of his friends and Thomas. He doesn’t want to jinx it, though. “It just reminded me of everything back at the beginning.”

Thomas nods, looking at Newt so softly and _warmly_ , that Newt wonders how he could even be this lucky. “We have a new beginning now,” he says.

“An _infinite_ amount of beginnings,” Newt smiles.

Newt remembers their first beginning. Both of them so young and blushy. Thomas who’d been nervous and smiling so big it looked _painful_. Newt with a crush on the greenie he’d just met _that day_ , the greenie who didn’t even know his own name yet. But Newt had known then, and he couldn’t be surer now.

Thomas is his _soulmate_.

They don’t need ridiculously sappy love confessions (which, okay, those didn’t _hurt_ ), or romantic poems, or some damn rings, or even a full _life_ together. They’re here _now_ , and they’re just as hopelessly in love as they’d been the day Newt died.

So, as they sit by the log, where their story had started, Newt doesn’t bother thinking about how their first story had ended. Because it hadn’t ended. It had merely paused. None of it matters.

Because they have eternity now, and that doesn't sound half bad.

**Author's Note:**

> yikes i'll regret posting this later  
> i also kinda want to write a prequel to this ?? like newt and thomas's relationship when they were alive ?? and then i want to write this but from tommy boy's POV ft. the infamous love letter ooh boy  
> idk lmk if that's something you'd want


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